Repose
by lebxeb
Summary: This is the follow up to Digging The Grave, Internment and Absolution. It can be read as a one shot. Brennan's POV. Thanks to all those who have stuck with me on this story. Merry Christmas. X


**Disclaimer**: They are not mine. No infringement intended.

**Summary**: Follow up to Digging The Grave, Internment, Absolution. Can be read as a one shot. Thank you to all those who have reviewed, and stuck with me on this. Merry Christmas to you all.

**Rating**: M.

**Thanks**: Goes to the ever faithful, Kam. My talented beta. Hugs X

**Part Four**:

**Repose**.

I can't begin to tell you how it feels. Unless you have experienced it yourself. Then it's pointless me trying to explain it to you. Saying that, I feel I should try.

Something happened to Booth and me nine weeks ago. We were abducted, drugged and thrown together in an underground air tight cell. With a loaded gun housing one bullet for company. We escaped. There is a rather compelling story in that. But I'm sure you can satisfy your curiosity, and read about that elsewhere. A lot was written about our ordeal and eventual escape, but frankly, I don't want to revisit that episode of our lives now. I'd much prefer to tell you what has happened since. Will you indulge me?

Thank you.

I should explain things first, set the scene so to speak. Booth and I have been together for many years professionally. We share a great mutual respect and affection. I admire many traits of his character. At first glance, the casual observer would say he is handsome. And yes, I'm willing to concede that he is. And yes, if I'm honest, it was one of the first things I noticed about him, on our first meeting and case. But then, I am not unattractive either, and that is where our similarities end.

We are opposites, in almost every way. I'm wealthy, he isn't. He lives off instinct and gut feelings. I don't, preferring rational, logical thought and actions to solve our cases or issues. He's a father, I've not procreated yet. I'm extremely intelligent, he isn't. Well, that is arrogant and disingenuous of me. He _**is **_intelligent but in different areas to me. He believes in a God. I do not. But interestingly I should tell you, I'm wavering on that issue recently. I'm sure it is only a temporary aberration.

Booth's faith in people and understanding of their psyches, is something I have envied. He has an uncanny ability to read people's thoughts, in much the same manner as would read a book. Something he rarely does. Me, I read four or five a week. There are many other differences between us, which if I list them all here, I will bore you. So I'll just say, although we are so different, we work perfectly together. We complement each other, and make a formidable team. Myself, the imperialists scientist. He, the savvy street wise, instinctual opposite, dovetailing to me in perfect symmetry.

We have grown extremely fond of one another… I'm sorry. That statement is dishonest of me. We have a deep affection… Again, forgive me. This is not easy for me. Love is a powerful word. It has challenged me for years.

My rational mind knows that the state of love, is a sensation induced by chemical euphoria. A state of being which is ephemeral. I have never believed in its concept or existence.

However, I find myself in a biological chemically conceived euphoric state. I have been in this state with my partner for nearly two years. And the chemical imbalance has not dissipated. In fact, it has increased exponentially over that period of time. So for ease let's just say, I love him.

I'm not in love with him. I love him. You may argue that it is the same thing. I beg to differ. Being _in _love with someone suggests, you can fall _out _of love with them. I love Booth. Ergo, I will _always _love him.

I've not told him of my condition, I don't need to. He knows now, he's fully aware, after what I inexplicably did, twice, out of loving him. More to the point, I would do it again, willingly.

So, my current joy comes from the knowledge that not only do I understand and believe in love and all that comes with it. It has now been proven to me. My love is reciprocated. And _that _is what I cannot explain to you fully. Unless of course, you love someone yourselves and they love you back. Then you know, comprehend, what a liberating blissful experience it is.

The trauma we both shared recently, brought these mutual feelings out into the open. Our near death experience has taught us a valuable life lesson. Not to regret or put off anything. Leave no words or thoughts unspoken. To be honest and clear, and not to fear the consequences.

You must think me a hypocrite to say that, _leave no words unspoken_, as I have just stated I haven't told him. You're correct. However, I've found those three words are spoken too often. Flippantly usually; I love this or I love that… Love, as I said is a powerful, dangerous thing and should be respected and revered. Said rarely but sincerely, then its meaning is not diminished or diluted.

I hope we understand each other.

Today I went for physiotherapy on my wrist and ankle. I'm a little tender and I ache. The medication I'm taking has numbed the worst of my discomfort, thankfully.

It's just gone six PM and I'm waiting patiently for my partner to come home. Luckily his injuries have healed more quickly than mine. He has been back to work, something I envy him. I'm going a little crazy at home, but after my surgery I have to be careful. I understand that. I had a superfluous organ removed due to its rupture, and still bear the scars from its removal.

I've decided and arranged with my good friend Ange, to deliver some remains for me to examine at home, while I recover. Just so I don't go stir crazy. My apartment has never looked so clean and tidy. I have no laundry to speak of. And I've caught up with many articles and new forensic techniques, while I have been off work.

I've been very productive with my spare time, it's true, but I miss my lab and colleagues greatly. Booth has made things so much easier for me, I have to say.

Since I was discharged from the private medical clinic I was treated in, Booth has been with me almost constantly. I'm an independent woman and don't ask for help unless it is essential. My injuries made me reconsider my independency. I asked Booth if he would stay and assist me.

I was delighted when he was euphoric that I asked. I have not regretted my decision to ask him. He has been a wonderful companion and considerate house guest.

He helps me cook our meals, we talk and discuss all manner of subjects, while we prepare and eat the meal. He goes to the market and tidies up after himself. Doing chores willingly, even cheerfully. He gives me space when I need it. Makes me laugh too, deflecting me if he sees me getting frustrated with my injuries, and their restricting inconveniences. Booth sympathies when I become fractious because I cannot return to work. He's a very affectionate and tenderly empathetic man.

He has held me, kissed me often. I know we have comforted each other, while slowly coming to terms with our ordeal, and our newly aired affair.

When he went back to work, he didn't forget about me here at home. He texts me often throughout the day. At his lunch break he calls for a few minutes. I have to say, I've never experienced this type of truly romantic relationship before. You may think it sounds oppressive to have someone around and in contact so much. But I pleasantly find myself looking at my wrist watch, waiting for his call at lunch. I should be ashamed that I keep checking my Blackberry for messages from him, but I'm not. I look forward to them, crave them even.

Love sick fool, you must be thinking. I'm not concerned, because I'm the happiest, most content I've ever been in my life.

I've had many visitors too. Colleagues from the Jeffersonian, my editor, my family. Booth has brought his son Parker for several visits. Parker has stayed in our guest room on the weekends, when Booth has custody of him. Parker is such a sweet boy, I'm extremely fond of him. He signed my cast and kissed my cheek tenderly when he left, wishing me well and better soon. Booth is such a good father, another trait I relish in him.

Booth has been my rock. Is that a cliché? I suppose it is, but it's very apt. It's how I feel. I've put myself up against him and he has been a man of stone, unmoving and unrelenting in his support. He's keeping me upright physically and mentally.

Arh, here he comes now. I recognise the sound of his footfalls outside the apartment. My heart palpitates and my stomach feels light and tingles. All signs I'm beginning to appreciate, and look forward to experiencing regularly.

He walks in smiling cheerfully, carrying our meal in his arms, no doubt. He's already chattering, asking me how my day was. What I did, how I feel, making easy conversation, while he puts away the groceries. I walk over to him, engaging him in the conversation. He pouts at me as I hobble over to him on my crutch. I tell him I've missed his face. He likes that. Enjoys me saying things like that, and I want to tell him those things, just to see him smile.

We hold tight now and then we kiss. Something I really enjoy doing with him. He kisses me very well and satisfyingly. I know he enjoys me too. He looks a little tired tonight, so I tell him. As usual he shirks off my observation and takes out some vegetables to prepare for dinner.

I pour myself a glass of wine and hand him a beer. We start to prepare dinner. Working easily around each other, just as we do efficiently at work. The situation is casual, feels extremely natural and very domestic.

I have to tell you something else. I like it, the idea of that very much: living with him. The two of us being a couple in every sense. To be frank, we have been living together as a couple, from the moment he came home with me. Sharing everything of ourselves and lives. We've found out so much that we didn't know about each other.

I now know which toothpaste he prefers. That he shaves every three days, not because he is lazy, but because he suffers with blade rash if he does too often. He sings poorly in the shower, usually Bohemian Rhapsody. He does all the parts in harmony, which has me chuckling as it's so awful, but endearing. I've even caught myself humming the infectious tune, while I do chores.

He does up his shirt buttons from the bottom, and puts his left sock on first. He loves to drink milk from the carton, which is appalling but I adore the look of shame on his face, when I catch him doing it. I chastise him but not too severely. And I've found out he is very particular about how his hair looks. When I enquired why, he said it was because his father was a barber and it just stuck with him.

Minutia, trivia you may say, but everything about this man I want to know, learn and store away. He's learnt things about me too, silly things which seem to enchant him and flatter me.

Booth likes to watch me dry my hair, inexplicably. He seems to really enjoy the mumbled groan I make, when the alarm goes off early. He snuggles into my throat and kisses it, with a smile curving his lips. He is astonished that I have my favourite morning coffee beans delivered every month. He says it's decadent and shameless of me. And that there is nothing wrong with American coffee. But he secretly adores the Kopi Luwak bean, I have to have before I start my day. I haven't the heart to tell him how it's prepared, because I know he will never drink it again. And he is fascinated by my clothes closet. He teases me that it is too tidy and laid out perfectly. But it makes sense to keep formal, casual and professional separate, doesn't it? And oddly, I've seen him smelling my bottled perfumes and sigh. He prefers the French sweet to the musky ones. So I wear that one more now.

Now we've finished and cleaned up after dinner. We sit on the sofa, draped over each other. He _is _tired tonight and rests gently on my lap, while I read to him. We've started, Arabian Nights. We take turns to read it to one another. I did say I would get a TV, but he didn't want me to. Saying he preferred me reading to him, but I've already ordered one on line. It should be here in a few days.

My hand plays idly with his soft hair while I read quietly. I can feel his exhales warming my abdomen. It's a wonderful sensation and awakens the dormant sexual woman in me.

Yes, we've been a couple in every way, except that way. I haven't been well enough or felt the inclination, nor has he. We haven't discussed sex between us either. We are still healing physically and mentally.

The wind has changed direction though. We can both feel it at our backs, pushing us forward. We both know it won't be long now, before we share ourselves completely. And discover the last quiet secrets of each other.

I must be candid, I'm thirsty to know him that way. I'm excited by the prospect of him being inside me. I've got him around me in all my senses, entwined in my life now. I want him to be a part of me physically as well.

He asks why I've stopped reading, I didn't realise I had. Obviously my thoughts had strayed. I smile down to him and kiss his forehead gently. Keeping my thoughts inside but I can see by his sweet smile, he knows what I was thinking. I try not to colour my cheeks but my body betrays me.

He tells me softly his back is aching. That concerns and saddens me that he is in pain. I stroke his brow, telling him to take pain relief. He says he doesn't want to, that he will be ok.

I dislike his answer and suggest a warm bath. He accepts the idea only because I offer to share it with him. Which I find adorable and unsurprising. Booth likes to study me naked, even though I have wounds that ugly me, temporarily. His eyes light up and he's off running us a bath.

We spend a lazy hour in the tub facing each other. Talking quietly and relaxed as we bathe one another. I do so enjoy bathing him. I've found many areas that tickle him when I touch. And ones which make his smile disappear and his eyes glaze. I like those best about him and how he looks at me when I do.

He's a beautiful man. Physically elegant and well proportioned. He's damaged and scarred, yes, but still a womanly delight to look at. He tells me the same, often. Which charms me. I'm delighted he finds me pleasant to look at too.

He has a fascination with my suprasternal notch and is constantly kissing it, or caressing me there. I don't mind his obsession with that part of my anatomy. As I have an equally obsessive area of him I'm fascinated by. It's over his sternum, between his defined pectorals. Where he has the tiniest, softest line of wispy chest hair. I caress it often. I've caught him grinning knowingly at me, when I've been touching him there. I don't have any embarrassment at being caught now. We've both accepted that we have these quirks of character.

He dries me carefully, thoroughly, as my wrist is still weak. We clean our teeth together, smiling happily, looking at each other in the reflection of the mirror. I tell him I don't want him to leave, when I no longer need any assistance. He stops brushing his teeth and smiles with a frothy mouth. He tells me he has no intention of leaving me. I sigh, relaxing. I didn't realise it had been playing on my mind so much. I make a feeble joke about him being presumptuous, and he chuckles. Which makes me step closer and stroke his stubbly jaw. I thank him. We kiss.

We go to our bed and settle against each other. I ask about his injured back again. He offers me a crooked pout, so I tell him to roll over. He shakes his head but I insist. He doesn't resist and does as he is told. I'm pleased he doesn't protest.

I spend a long time caressing his tender spine and learning his shape. Memorising every vertebrae again, easing his ache without chemicals. We talk about tomorrow and the next day. I tell him Ange is bringing remains from limbo tomorrow. He frowns and turns his head to look at me, obviously unhappy about that. I smile and kiss his back softly, on the marks I left all those weeks ago now.

I feel him shift and sigh. I can see he is aroused by my kiss and my hand on him. He tries to hide his arousal. I slide my hand over his buttocks feeling them clench and kiss his back again. I whisper against his scented skin, that I want us to make love. He's reluctant to engage with me.

I understand he doesn't want to cause me any discomfort. My torso is still healing. I'm touched by his concern and I reassure him, caressing his shifting hips. He asks if I'm sure, I tell him I am. He rolls onto his side and faces me. To my delight, I see him fully aroused for me, for the first time.

I sigh. He's magnificent, and I know he's mine, all mine, always. My body responds to his vision and I tell him how beautiful he is. His eyes cloud, obviously touched and pleased I think so. I touch him there and kiss his lips. I can feel the heat rise between us. The scent of him infuses me and sets me off.

I make slow deliberate progress with my mouth over his face and neck, while my palm pleasures him slowly. He groans and flexes his hips gently. I'm grateful he doesn't stop me, but helps my downward progress, by pushing the covers off us. I look up before I taste him finally. His eyes sparkle with tears, a mixture of many things; love, joy, gratefulness and memory.

He feels hot, silky soft and throbs seductively in my mouth. I make love to him as slowly as he needs and wants. He caresses my hair and trembles under me. Whispering my name and his pleasure. He's very complimentary of my tenderness and extremely gentle with me. I allow him to climax but hold his ejaculation back, to save that part of him for me.

Oh I adore this man, who is lost in me. His face is serene and calm. His smile purses his lips knowing what I have done. He tells me when he is back with me, that I'm a genius. I smile and make my way back to his face, my lips swollen, and kiss him. He still quivers, we stay still and quiet while he settles.

My body is calm too, relaxed and free of pain. He tells me to relax and not to move, that he'll do it all. I can feel my eyes burn, my throat tighten and my body quiver at his tender, caring entreaty. I'm deeply moved by that and give myself over to him.

He mouths my lips, and is kissing me all better, all my wounds and bruises. He doesn't miss a spot. The bliss I feel as his loving hands move my broken limbs aside, with the utmost care and gentleness, causes my tears to fall. I feel his own drip on to my stomach, as he makes his way to my centre.

I jolt a little as I feel his tongue on me. He's kissing me there. I call to him over and over. He takes his time to pleasure me, enjoying the discovery of me. He carries me to the edge and gently tips me over, with extreme and tender caution. A long deep throaty sigh leaves my throat with relief and sweet rapture. His hand takes mine as I lose myself to his glorious loving of me.

I'm elated. I tell him I need more, more of him, of us. He understands and covers me with himself slowly, carefully. My eyes hooded, he's watching me. I know what he's thinking. He knows my mind too, I don't let him hesitate. I loop my leg around his hips and ease him into me. Oh my… I can't breathe suddenly. The pound of flesh I had removed is replaced by him, and I feel complete again. The sense datum is cathartic.

He thinks I'm in pain, and moves to withdraw, but I'm not. I hold him close and look into his concerned eyes. I tell him I don't believe in God, but that he is _my _saviour and _my _liberator. He nods in understanding and trusts me.

He slips his arms under mine, arching his back so he doesn't crush my torso and begins to ripple delicately into me. I've never been so immobile during sex, but then again this isn't sex. I can barely move as he has my complete surrender and trust.

I feel his breath on my face, he's speaking but I can't hear. I try to focus on him but my body is reluctant to do anything other than feel him pleasuring me.

I'm overwhelmed by his gentleness and care.

I kiss him and try to pull him closer, deeper, but he refuses to indulge me. Fingering my face delicately, he continues to make love to me. Proving his love over and over again.

He tells me I'm beautiful, that he will always be with me. Then, that he loves me. That's when I flow forward and cry out his birth name, drawing it out for the length of the climax he has bestowed me with. I feel his body surge into mine. I hear myself gasp at the earth-trembling sensation it causes. His lips find mine and we kiss passionately. Our ecstasy is cataclysmic and dissolves us utterly.

I'm not sure why, but I stop weeping and start to laugh softly. This amuses him. I realised in the instant of our bliss, what an imbecile I've been. How conceited and foolish I was to assume I knew everything there was to know about this deed.

Booth smiles and tells me I look angelic. I tell him that it isn't surprising, as I've just been to heaven, a place I didn't think existed, and returned. He laughs softly and asks permission to withdraw from my body. Which I find a wonderful thing to ask for. However, I refuse to allow it. I still know I need more of us. He obliges willingly, delighted by my obstinacy.

We kiss again, and begin again.

Booth tidies me up with extreme care and thoughtfulness, then himself. He draws the covers over our exhausted bodies and holds me delicately, and I, him. I roll on to my good side and place my hand over his heart, then I say to him those three powerful words.

The gravity of them undoes and tranquilises him.

Finally, we are in repose.

* * *

**Author's notes**: I hope you enjoyed. Please let me know if you did. Merry Christmas. Till the next time… Lebxeb X.


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